Romelle felt perfectly safe in the valley.
"Dragon's Heart is where I belong," she told Bart when he and Dash tried to get her to go. "Suppose Dayan needs me? No, I must wait for my husband here."
The two men looked over her head at each other. Bart gave Dash a slight wink.
"Very well, daughter," he said, "you do as you feel you ought. Dash and I are going to Urga. The Living Buddha has sent for us, and we feel we must obey. I suppose you'll be safe enough here. If any stray Manchus come to the valley looking for trouble, you can hide in your poppy meadow. It won't be as nice as it was with Dayan. The poppies are gone, the lambs are grown, and the nights are rather cold, but they'll never find you."
As he left the cottage with Dash, Bart looked back from the doorway to offer a few last words. "If you use the yurt, be careful, darling. It's the season when snow leopards are often seen around the hot springs where you like to bathe. They're beautiful, but I wouldn't get too close."
"Bart, don't forget the wolves," offered Dash.
"Ah, yes, the wolves," nodded Bart.
Before they left the compound an hour later, Romelle had already placed her suitcase in the baggage cart.
The Living Buddha was thrilled to see her. She had studied Khalkha, the principal language of Mongolia, all summer long. For the first time, she was able to communicate directly.
"Your Holiness," she said as she genuflected before him, "I am your humble servant. I beg to be reinstated as a living goddess for the time I am here so that I shall not embarrass you by my presence in the palace."
He smiled adoringly. "It does not matter, little one. The people know who you are. You will always be welcome anywhere among them. They have made that clear."
His wife rushed forward to embrace her. "How kind of you to learn our language! So few foreigners even try!"
"Forgive me for speaking it so poorly," apologized Romelle."You understand me, and I understand you," the lady replied. "What else matters?"
The Living Buddha prodded his wife.
"Show her," he whispered. "Show her now."
His wife clapped her hands. Two boy lamas ran forward, kowtowing at her feet.
"Do as I told you," she commanded them kindly.
The boys jumped up and left the audience room, returning shortly with a large frame carried backward between them.
"Turn it around!" boomed the Living Buddha.
The boys did so.
"It's upside down!" he bellowed.
The boys trembled. One dropped his corner, shaking, and couldn't pick it up.
The Living Buddha's wife shook a finger at her husband. "Softly, Jeb. You are not a trumpet! To them, you are the voice of God."
The Living Buddha pouted with contrition. He stepped down from the dais, went to the boys, and kissed them on the crowns of their shaved heads.
"I will do this myself," he offered benignly. "It is too large for your small hands. Go, and say your prayers."
He took the frame from them and stood beaming before Romelle. His wife took a place on the other side.
Between them was a beautifully executed tempera of the Golden City, framed in solid gold and protected by glass.
Romelle was effusive in her thanks.
"We commissioned it so you would always have near you a reminder of what you made possible for this country," the Living Buddha said.
"I must see the rest of the artist's work," exclaimed Romelle. "I have never seen anything accomplished with more finesse in tempera. The technique looks Japanese."
"Your observation is correct, Princess," said someone standing among the lamas of the Court.
Damba stepped forward and bowed. He was disguised again as a priest.
"It is my work," he said. "I have many pieces. I studied not only martial arts and languages in Japan, but also painting. I am so happy you like it."
"I shall see to it that you exhibit in Paris when this war is over," she declared.
"We have another surprise for you," smiled the wife of the Living Buddha.
She flung out her hand toward the main doorway.
Romelle turned around. She saw Dayan entering. He pushed back the hood of his lama's robe.
They rushed into each other's arms with a joyous cry, ignoring all protocol of the Living Buddha's court.
"We have one night," he whispered into her ear. "Then I must return to the hills outside the city."
The Living Buddha gave them a large room well removed from the public areas of the palace. It was furnished in Western style with overstuffed sofas and chairs and a canopied, four-poster bed.
Once they were alone, they embraced without thought of letting each other go.
Later that night, Dayan offered an explanation of his presence in Urga.
"Damba is staying in the palace to see that you are protected. I slipped into the city only to see you. The Manchus have concentrated their forces here. If caught, Damba and I could be shot as spies. That's why we are dressed as lamas again. The princes of all the Mongol clans are convening in the hills around the Sacred City. We are deciding what to do. The Manchus are terrified. The Chinese are massacring them - man, woman, and child - all over China. We are afraid they might try to take over here in sheer desperation. Please stay inside. We have many soldiers hiding in the palace stockade to defend it, if it comes to that, but take care.
"I must return to my troops. Never forget how much I love you."
As he prepared to leave, she lingered by the door.
"It seems we're always saying goodbye, Dayan. I've begun to wonder if our day will ever come."
He smiled. "It's not only coming, it's almost here. Don't forget the legend of the Seventh Eye. Where it saw, we were to find the Golden City, and we did. Within seven months of that day, Mongolia would be free."
"Yes!" cried Romelle. "I remember Brad saying that the time was up on the thirtieth of November. My goodness, darling, that's tomorrow!"
The following morning, Bart knocked loudly on his daughter's door. She was already clad in the Tsaritsa's white dress and was combing her hair. He snatched her by the hand and fairly dragged her up a stairway leading to the roof.
Rebel ran with them.
The Living Buddha was there, with his wife and the Court.
"Look!" he called out when Bart rushed her to his side. "There, on your new highway leading to the Russian frontier, there go all the Manchus. They have surrendered! Mongolia is free!"
Dash came up the stairs. "I've just received a message. When Dayan left here last night, he discovered that the Manchus were stupidly overconfident of their superiority. They left their weapons stacked in the streets, posted no sentinels, and carelessly went to bed. Dayan sent for his troops. They tiptoed into the city and stole every weapon in sight! When the Manchus woke up, they knew they were defeated. The Tsar has given them safe passage through Siberia to Manchuria. After more than two centuries of making our lives miserable, they're going back to their own country, where they damn well belong! The murder of Dayan's mother is avenged!"
The group on the roof could hear cheers rippling through the city.
Romelle felt a tug at her hemline. Rebel had taken hold with his teeth. He tried to pull her away. She resisted. He let loose, turned heel, and disappeared downstairs.
She looked down into the vast stockade surrounding the palace, filling with people now, shouting and waving happily to the Living Buddha at her side. She saw Rebel darting among them, headed for the gate.
A group of men in helmets and shining mail rode in. One removed his helmet. It was Dayan.
He saw Rebel and glanced upward to the roof, but Romelle was no longer there. The first glimpse of him had set her feet in motion. When he saw her burst from the palace doorway, he leapt from his horse.
 As she ran toward him, the crowd parted to let her through. "Lady Tara!" they cried. "Blessing of God!"
Dayan swept her up and kissed her. The throng cheered.
"We can go home to the valley," she sighed. "Paradise is ours!"
"For a little while only, golden poppy," he frowned, setting her down.
"What do you mean?" she pouted.
"I must leave," he said in a sorrowful voice, "in a matter of days."
She began to cry.
Gently, he cupped her chin in his hand. "No, no, darling, it's not so bad." He gathered her into his arms again. "This time, we will travel together! The Living Buddha has promised me an appointment as minister plenipotentiary to the governments of Europe."
The thrilling revelation stanched Romelle's tears. She gripped her husband tightly.
"The two of us?" she whispered softly in his ear. "I have a surprise for you. We shall soon be three, my love. Perhaps our baby will be born in the Place Dauphine."
Dayan gave a triumphant cry, lifting her high for all to see. "Here is the woman who carries my child!"
The crowd applauded amid mighty shouts of "Blessing of God!"
Romelle looked skyward. The sun glinted on fleecy poufs of low clouds forming a ring just above.
 She thought for a moment of the infinite circle of life and of those unseen, silent souls standing guardian over her even now.
Oh, Philo! Mother! Annie! And all whose sacrifices may have brought me to this time and place! At last, I have something to give to you!
She knew they belonged to the past, but she knew also that she linked them to the future - through the tiny being gathering strength beneath her heart.
THE END
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